Love You Dead

17 Saturday 21 February

It was 5 p.m. and growing dark. The yellow Nissan cab stopped to drop off a passenger outside Macy’s department store in Herald Square, New York City, then switched on its Off Duty lights. But before it could move away, the rear door opened.

A short, shaven-headed man, carrying two Macy’s bags, head bowed against the falling snow, gave a silent job-done acknowledgement to the exiting passenger, clambered into the warmth of the rear and pulled the door shut behind him. Shit, it was cold.

There were 13,471 medallions currently issued in New York, allowing the owners to run yellow cabs. Most cabs operated twenty-four-seven, two drivers each doing twelve-hour shifts. CCTV footage from a camera outside the Park Royale West Hotel had identified the cab that had picked up Judith Forshaw at 10.17 p.m., Wednesday 18 February. It took a private detective hired by Tooth’s Russian paymaster less than two days to find it.

‘Sorry, I’m off duty, sir,’ the turbaned driver said, turning his head to see a wodge of ten-dollar bills being pushed through the small hole in the bullet-proof Perspex separating him from his passengers.

‘Start driving.’

‘I don’t think you are understanding. I am off duty now, going home.’

‘Drive!’

A car behind hooted, angrily.

‘Please, I am going home—’

‘Drive!’

There was another even longer blast of a horn behind them.

The cab lurched forward.

Tooth pressed his face up to the partition. ‘You picked up a lady at Park Royale West on Wednesday night. Remember?’

‘Wednesday?’

‘You handed in a bag of cocaine later that night. You’ve already told the police everything you know, right?’

‘I don’t remember, sir.’

Another wodge of dollar bills — hundred-dollar bills this time — came through the hole. ‘I’ll give you enough cash you won’t need to work for a week. She was my wife. I need to find her. Tell me something you didn’t tell the police.’

As they pulled up at a stop light the driver said, ‘I told them everything.’

Before he knew it, the front door opened and a moment later his passenger was sitting beside him, with a stiletto blade in his hand. Then the knife was digging into the base of his throat. ‘No, you didn’t tell them everything, did you?’

‘Please, yes, yes, I did,’ he said, terrified.

There was a bright Duane Reade sign visible through the window. Tooth clocked it out of the corner of his eye. ‘What else did she say to you?’

‘Nothing! She said nothing!’

‘Can you feel how sharp this is?’

The driver gave a terrified nod.

Tooth pressed the blade in between the man’s legs. ‘You want me to cut your dick off?’

The driver shook his head. ‘No, no, please.’

‘What did you talk about? You and the bitch?’

‘Nothing. Please, sir, nothing! I am swearing!’

‘Want me to cut your testicles off and ram them down your throat? Or would you prefer a thousand-dollar tip?’

A van hooted loudly and swerved in front of them.

‘Please, what do you want?’

‘She gave you a big tip, yes? You told the police, when you handed in the cocaine, that she gave you a hundred-dollar tip. Right?’

‘Yessir, yes, she did.’

‘Where is that hundred-dollar bill now?’

‘I–I—’

‘Don’t fuck with me. Where is it? This isn’t your cab, right?’

‘No, sir.’

‘You’re a journeyman. You drive this for someone else. What’s your name?’

‘Vishram, sir.’

‘Vishram what?’

‘Singh.’

‘OK, Vishram, where is it? The banknote? The one-hundred-dollar bill? At home? You didn’t hand it to the cab owner, did you?’

‘No,’ he stammered. ‘No. I didn’t.’

‘You didn’t bank it either, did you? You wouldn’t want to have to pay tax on that. Did you spend it?’

‘No — not yet.’

‘So you still have it?’

‘In my home, sir.’

‘Where is that?’

‘In Queens, sir.’

‘Tell you what, Vishram. I’ll do a deal with you. I’ll give you a one-thousand-dollar tip if you drive to your home right now, give me that bill, then drop me off back in downtown Manhattan. Or would you prefer I tell the cab owner you ripped him off on this tip?’

‘No, please. Please. This money I need. My wife is very sick. No insurance. I need the money for her medical bills.’

‘Do we have a deal?’

‘Yessir. Deal. Yes, please.’

Tooth suddenly wrinkled his nose in disgust at a vile stench filling the interior of the cab, and opened his window as the man drove on.